


I Wanna Feel Your Heartlines

by TheMipstaz



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Cunnilingus, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Sex, Semi-Public Sex, They're both 18, Vaginal Fingering, brief mention of bullying/racism, noshiko disapproves of malia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-08-08 05:23:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7744903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMipstaz/pseuds/TheMipstaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So maybe Kira is not as much of a good girl as she would like to think.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Wanna Feel Your Heartlines

**Author's Note:**

> This has literally been stuck in my head for weeks, so 3.5k of malira fluff/smut later, here we are. Also the desks aren't the usual high school single person desks. I was thinking more of the larger 2 person desks from the detention scene in s2. Title from [this Broods song.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=svZ666KgWqM)

Kira Yukimura would like to consider herself a good girl. She does her homework on time, usually; only stays up late watching anime occasionally; achieves okay grades. Kira Yukimura does _not_ get detention for trying to break up a fight between her ill-tempered girlfriend and a douchey boy who asked Kira how she could be Asian and barely scrape a B minus in English.

Unfortunately, all this hard evidence doesn’t magically stop Kira from tentatively knocking on the door of the classroom she and Malia are supposed to serve their punishment in. It’s only been a couple minutes since the final bell rang, but the hallways are already almost deserted.

Mr. Harris—in all his squinty-eyed, haughty glory—opens the door with a thin-lipped scowl. “You’re late,” he barks at her, shooing her in. “You were supposed to be here immediately after your last period.”

“I have Econ all the way on the other side of school,” Kira protests. “And Coach Finstock let us go late because he was yelling at Greenberg. I got here as fast as I could.”

“Don’t make excuses,” snaps Mr. Harris. “Do you want me to write you a referral on top of your week of detention?” Just before he slams the door shut, a foot shoots out and stops it.

Malia peeks her head in, face lighting up when she catches sight of Kira. “Hey, babe. Guess I’m in the right place. Usually I have to go to the R Wing for detention.”

Kira weakly raises a hand in greeting. She’s too worried about how her parents will react when she comes home late to smile, but unable to prevent the automatic fluttering feeling in her gut at the sight of Malia.

Mr. Harris opens his mouth, presumably to tell Malia off for being even later than Kira, but promptly shuts it when Malia ignores him and skips past to plop herself in the chair next to Kira’s. He, like everyone else, knows about Malia’s tendency to break school rules and probably figures it’s not worth wasting his breath. He does make sure to sharply say, “No PDA,” when Malia pecks Kira’s cheek. But the reprimand only makes Malia glare at him, cup Kira’s face firmly with both hands, and stick her tongue down Kira’s throat.

Kira squeaks in surprise, face flushing, but easily melts into the kiss when Malia fierce grip on her jaw softens. Despite her rough-and-tumble bad girl reputation, Kira has never known Malia to be anything other than gentle with her.

Sometimes she wonders if it’s because Malia knows she’s Kira’s first girlfriend and is trying to ease Kira into her queer identity. Malia’s been out as pan for as long as Kira’s known her, but Kira only came to her own realization less than a year ago. It had been hard on Kira’s fairly traditional mother, but Malia has always been understanding when Kira cancels their dates last minute because her mom is in a mood.

Of course, all of this deep pondering goes out the window when Malia sucks on Kira’s bottom lip and nips at the corner of her mouth. Kira sinks easily into the rhythm of the kiss, eyes flickering shut to focus on the feeling of Malia’s mouth against hers.

Then Malia pulls back to cheekily smirk at Mr. Harris, who has averted his scandalized gaze, and all of Kira’s embarrassment comes flooding back. “Malia!” she chastises, cheeks burning.

But Malia ignores her in favor of demanding, “Hey, where’s the dickhead who’s the reason we’re even here?”

Pushing his glasses snootily up his nose, Mr. Harris cooly replies, “Mr. Cunningham has come by earlier to pick up his son and get this whole mess sorted out. Eyewitnesses have confirmed that you took the first swing, making Josh innocent, so we saw no reason to keep him here or have it on his permanent record. He’s such a promising student, it would be a shame. You two on the other hand—”

Malia shoots up and slams her hands down on the desk. “That’s bullshit!”

“Malia,” Kira pleads quietly, nervously tugging at Malia’s wrist.

But Malia shrugs her off. “It’s because his dad is some hotshot state senator, huh? What about all the racist crap he was saying before I punched his ugly mug? He totally had it coming. If anyone’s the innocent one here, it’s Kira, and—”

“That is enough, Malia,” Mr. Harris interrupts icily, eyes narrowing. “One more word and your week of detention becomes two.”

Malia snorts. “If you think that scares me, try again. I’ve already got three weeks’ worth of detentions queued up from my Mischief Night prank.”

Kira raises an unimpressed eyebrow.

Malia at least looks a little sheepish. “Yeah, before I forget, we’re going to have to cancel our bowling this weekend. Me and Stiles got Saturday school.” Then she immediately turns back to defiantly shoot daggers at Mr. Harris.

“Okay,” Mr. Harris smiles pleasantly, “how about a matching three weeks for your friend.”

Malia purses her lips and slowly sits back down without a word.

“That’s what I thought.” Mr. Harris triumphantly leans back in his seat and picks back up the book he was reading.

“What an asshat,” Malia seethes under her breath.

Kira places her hands over Malia’s, which draws Malia’s attention. “Thank you,” Kira says sincerely with a small smile, “for sticking up for me.”

“What else am I good for?” jokes Malia. “You’re the jock _and_ brains of our relationship. I need something going for me. By the way, you are never getting your lacrosse jersey back. I love wearing it too much.”

“I ordered an extra already,” Kira shrugs, holding back a giggle. “I figured you would like it. And for the record, I think you have plenty of things going for you. They’re just not necessarily school-related things.”

“You have told me I’m pretty good at sucking your clit,” Malia agrees sagely. “Hey, I gotta charge my phone.”

Kira’s jaw drops. When her brain finally processes what Malia just said, she splutters and grabs their bags and scrambles up out of her chair. She chases after Malia, who’s crouched by the back wall looking for an electrical socket.

“Hey, what’re you two doing?” Mr. Harris narrows his eyes suspiciously.

“Looking for an outlet,” Malia calls back without turning to look at him. She holds up her phone wall charger as proof.

Mr. Harris harrumphs loudly, but goes back to his book.

“Aha!” Malia plugs in her phone and throws herself into the nearest desk chair.

Kira gingerly lowers herself next to her, dropping Malia’s backpack to the ground and placing her own on the desk. She lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, relieved to be in the back row as far from Mr. Harris as possible if Malia’s going to bring up their sex life at inappropriate times.

“ _So_ ,” Malia drawls, drawing out the word and resting her hand on the bare skin of Kira’s thigh. She waggles her eyebrows in a way that uncannily reminds Kira of Stiles. “Wanna have sex?”

“R-right now?” Kira doesn’t know how she feels about the way her gut tingles at Malia’s proposition. She clenches without meaning to, licks her lips.

“No, in five minutes. Yes, now.” Malia leans in, crowding Kira and tucking back a loose strand of hair. “We’ve got an hour to kill. Why not?”

“Because we’re at school—”

“What about that quickie in the bathroom last month?”

“—with a teacher literally thirty feet away,” hisses Kira, scooting her chair away from Malia. “Sorry I can’t get in the mood with Mr. Harris here. And my parents are already gonna ground me. They will actually kill me if we get caught naked in detention.”

“Who said anything about naked?” Malia murmurs, lips brushing Kira’s ear and fingers tracing the hem of Kira’s skirt. “We won’t even break the dress code.”

“Oh my God, we’re seriously doing this.” Kira’s breath hitches when Malia strokes her inner thigh under the table where no one can see. She squirms in her seat, legs falling open a little wider. She can feel herself getting wet, heart pounding a little faster.

“Only if you want to.” Malia’s eyes dart to Mr. Harris, who’s completely enthralled by a video on his phone now. She glances back to Kira, eyes dark, and licks her lips. “Just say no, and we’ll stop.”

Kira swallows. She bites her bottom lip. She clenches her hands.

She doesn’t say no.

Malia grins like a cat that got the cream. She gently drags her nails up Kira’s thigh and rucks up her skirt. Kira shudders, mouth falling open. Checking one last time that Mr. Harris is busy scrolling on his phone, Malia strokes her thumb over Kira’s panties and grins when Kira jerks against her hand with a cut off noise. She relishes the damp fabric under her finger, the way Kira’s eyes glaze over when she grazes her clit. Malia presses a little firmer, slow circles that she knows drives Kira insane and drenches her fingers.

Kira’s breathing sounds deafening in her ears, chest rapidly rising and falling. She white knuckles her backpack in front of her on the desk. She swallows audibly when Malia traces the edge of her panties, slips under to tease the wet heat. Kira fidgets in her chair, wiggling her hips to help Malia yank her underwear to the side. When two fingers skim her entrance, Kira can’t bite back a moan fast enough.

Mr. Harris jerks his head up at the noise. “What’re you two doing back there?” he frowns.

“Nothing,” chirps Malia as though she isn’t knuckle-deep inside Kira. She pumps her fingers faster, curling them and punching the breath out of Kira. She grabs a textbook from Kira’s bag with her free hand. “Just studying economics. Right, Kira?”

“R-right,” stammers Kira, unable to meet Mr. Harris’ eyes and praying he doesn’t notice how red she is.

“That’s a math book,” Mr. Harris points out dryly.

“Uh, that’s what I meant?” Malia tries.

Mr. Harris just huffs to himself and goes back to his phone.

Shifting closer again, Malia adds another finger and enjoys the way Kira squeezes around them, hot and tight and wet. She trails light kisses down Kira’s neck and nibbles on her jaw. She makes sure to keep her eyes fixed on where Mr. Harris isn’t paying the slightest bit of attention to them. “Gotta keep it down,” Malia whispers, sneaking her other hand up Kira’s shirt, “or we’re gonna get caught.”

Kira nods shakily, a bead of sweat rolling down her neck. And then Malia’s fingers finds that sweet spot that has her hips bucking and her back arching desperately. “Oh, _there_.”

Malia’s grin turns predatory. Even though the awkward angle is killing her wrist, she knows it won’t take much longer now. She has Kira right where she wants her. Kira’s so wet that it’s easy for Malia. She smears her slick fingers along the delicate skin of Kira’s inner thighs, the crease of her hip, and back into the warm folds between her legs.

Kira shudders and clenches around Malia’s fingers, head tipping back. Arousal pulses through her as her pleasure crests and Malia’s fingers feel so good and—

The door slams open.

Kira’s half-lidded eyes snap open with a terrified squeak. She bolts straight up in her seat, stomach dropping out. Malia freezes, eyes wide.

“Adrian!” Coach Finstock bellows from the doorway. “Greenberg just broke one of your classroom windows with a lacrosse ball. No need to get your panties in a twist, but I just thought you should know. They’re moving you down the hall until it gets repaired next week.”

“Oh, for the love of God, Bobby,” Mr. Harris growls at Finstock’s retreating back. “All my chemistry equipment is in there. I’m going to have to move it for the lab tomorrow.” He gets up to leave, but then remembers about Kira and Malia. He visibly vacillates, trading looks between the two of them and the door. Finally, he commands, “You two, don’t move. I’ll be right back. If you aren’t here when I return, it’ll be a month of detention.”

Then he’s gone, though neither of them dare to breathe until his footsteps fade completely.

“Oh my fucking God,” Malia laughs in relief, thunking her head down on the table. “I thought we were dead.”

“How is this funny?” Kira demands, heart still pounding wildly in her chest. “That was the scariest thing that’s ever happened to me.” Then she yelps in surprise as Malia scoops her up to sit her on the desk top.

“Too scary to come?” Malia’s eyes sparkle.

“Of course not,” Kira mutters, trying desperately to hang onto her anger. But it slips away like sand through her fingers in the face of Malia’s infectious grin.

“Good.”

There’s not much talking after that. Malia surges forward in a heated kiss, wet and sloppy and no finesse at all. One hand buries itself in Kira’s hair, and the other palms her breast. Kira gasps into her mouth as Malia tweaks a nipple, desire coming back full force.

“God, you are so hot,” Malia mutters against her lips. She slots her hips firmly between Kira’s slick thighs and grabs Kira’s ass with both hands, squeezing. “And these have got to come off.” With one quick movement, Malia lifts Kira up just enough to drag her panties off completely. She tucks them in her back pocket with a wicked grin. “Much better.”

Kira leans back on her trembling hands, licking her lips. She barely has enough breath to ask, “Why am I the only one who’s taking off clothes?”

“If we had more time, I’d gladly join you.” Malia’s eyes rove hungrily over Kira: her tousled hair, her kiss-swollen lips, the dark hickey bruising her collarbone, the outline of her hard nipples through her thin shirt, the sheen of light reflecting off her slick thighs. She looks completely debauched, and Malia can’t help a curl of smug satisfaction beneath her simmering arousal. “But as it is…”

Kira throws her arms around Malia’s neck when Malia hoists her back to the ground, not even noticing the desk edge digging painfully into her back. It’s all Kira can do not to collapse to the ground when Malia falls to her knees to get her mouth on her. Kira’s legs turn to jello when Malia adds a couple fingers, tongue laving around them. She holds onto the desk for dear life and throws back her head; the sight of Malia gazing up at her through dark lashes with glossy lips is too much. But Kira can still hear the sloppy, obscene noises Malia’s fingers make in her, can feel the vibrations of Malia’s moans against her clit.

“I-I’m…close,” Kira chokes out, one hand tangling itself in Malia’s hair. Her hips roll erratically against Malia’s mouth, chasing the pleasure of her clever lips. The arousal dripping down her thighs and streaking Malia’s chin crescendoes to an almost unbearable height. Kira squeezes her eyes shut, curls her toes. Malia twists her fingers just right, sucks hard, fucks her tongue hard into her, and Kira comes with a high-pitched moan.

Malia hums in satisfaction as she feels Kira tense around her fingers, tastes a heady burst of come. She eases Kira through the aftershocks with gentle movements until Kira relaxes her grip on Malia’s shoulders she needed to keep her balance and sighs. Straightening up, Malia wipes at her sticky face and casually laps at her fingers. It doesn’t taste particularly pleasant, but it’s worth it when Kira groans and weakly shoves at her.

“Stop,” Kira complains half-heartedly. “Do you want me to come again?”

“I wouldn’t be opposed,” Malia grins, resting her slightly tacky hands on Kira’s waist.

“I would.” Kira makes a face. “I hate how wet and messy everything gets.” To emphasize her point, she scrubs ineffectively at her inner thighs.

“Well, I think it’s pretty fucking hot.” Malia’s breath ghosts over her ear as she pulls Kira’s skirt back down from where it had been pushed up her stomach. She fixes Kira’s top where she had pulled it down to suck on her collarbone.

Kira feels like checking semi-public sex off her sex bucket list should make her immune to being embarrassed by Malia’s lewd comments. It doesn’t.

Face red, Kira reaches into her bag for a packet of baby wipes to mop up the come Malia missed on her face.

Malia just laughs like she knows exactly how flustered she makes Kira and kisses her. Now this, Kira can handle. It’s easy to drown in the feeling of Malia’s lips moving against her own, soft and unhurried.

“I thought I said no PDA.”

Malia turns to shoot a dirty look at Mr. Harris, who just opened the door. “And I thought I said I don’t fucking—”

Kira claps a hand over Malia’s mouth and offers a sunny smile. “Hi, Mr. Harris. It’s 4:30; our detention is over. Can we please go now?” She arranges her face in what she hopes looks like _I’m a somewhat good kid and promise to look after my unruly girlfriend_ and not like _we just had sex in this classroom please don’t tell my parents._

Mr. Harris checks the clock, which irks Kira because why would she bother lying about the time? But she holds her tongue. It tastes a little bitter from kissing Malia’s come-covered mouth. Finally, he relents. “I suppose so. I hope you two learned your—”

“Okaythanksbye!” Kira grabs their bags, throws the textbook at Malia, and all but runs out the door with Malia in tow. Malia makes sure to flip off Mr. Harris before Kira drags her away.

“—lesson.” Mr. Harris shakes his head and mutters under his breath about uncontrollable teenage brats.

Kira doesn’t know whether to cry in relief or laugh in exultancy when they burst through the Beacon High front doors into the sunlight. She compromises for a little of both that has Malia giving her concerned looks. “I still can’t believe that just happened.” Kira shakes her head, the corner of her mouth tugging up. “That is officially the craziest thing that I’ve ever done.”

Malia smiles and throws her arm around Kira’s shoulders as they walk towards the student parking lot. “Crazier than that time I convinced you to sneak out of your room after curfew?”

“Yes.”

“Crazier than that club we got thrown out of on my eighteenth birthday?”

“Definitely.”

“Crazier than when you first asked me out?”

Kira giggles behind her hands as Malia opens the car door for her. “Almost. But this is a close second.”

“I agree.” Malia patiently waits for Kira to buckle her seatbelt securely before peeling out of the parking lot and nearly hitting two other cars.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to come though,” Kira says apologetically. She grips the dashboard with one hand and the handle on the interior of the roof with the other as Malia zooms around a particularly sharp turn.

“I’m sure you’ll find a way to make it up to me.” Malia winks.

“I’m sure,” Kira agrees.

It’s a short drive to Kira’s street, and Justin Timberlake serenades them on the radio until Malia slows to a somewhat jerky stop in front of Kira’s house.

Kira grimaces. She stares forlornly at the two stern figures waiting on the porch. Well, one stern-looking mother and one disappointed-looking father. “This is not good. Mom really doesn’t need another reason to hate you.”

“Well, then I guess you better not let her see these.” Malia stealthily drops Kira’s soaked panties into her lap. While Kira goes bright red, Malia beams at Kira’s parents and waves a friendly hand.

That only makes Mrs. Yukimura glower harder. At least Mr. Yukimura waves back. Malia doubts he’d look so happy if he knew those same fingers had been deep inside his daughter less than a half hour ago

“Text me as soon as you can?” Malia asks.

Kira leans over and kisses her nose. “Of course. Thanks for the ride.” She clambers out of the car, hastily tucks her panties into her bag, and squares her shoulders. Time to face the music. Or, in her case, the funeral march.

* * *

 

Surprisingly, Kira only gets grounded for a week. No phone, no computer except to do homework in the living room, no outside of school activities except for lacrosse practice. However, her parents forbid her from seeing Malia for a whole month.

“That girl is bad news, Kira,” her mom repeats.

“I think it might be for the best for now,” her dad admits.

Kira wilts, but reluctantly agrees and goes back to picking at her sashimi.

It takes a week for Malia to realize Kira is actually going to obey her parents for once and not go on secret dates behind their backs.

It takes a week and a half to convince Kira to disobey her parents and go on secret dates behind their backs.

So maybe Kira is not as much of a good girl as she would like to think.


End file.
